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Xanthippe wasn’t fond of strangers, particularly those who hung around her ladies. Who was this mysterious man who’d appeared so suddenly when her lord was not around? What was his purpose in being here, and when was he going to leave? A creature of routine, she did not appreciate when that routine was interrupted, especially without knowing beforehand.
For a woman who held so many secrets of her own, she despised them in others. Normally, she knew when a guest was coming around; Lord Fotios typically informed her of such. But this man… this man had given no warning, had simply showed up and disappeared with Lady Eirini, and that simply would not do.
Follow him.
This time, she and the gods were in agreement, for how could she keep her ‘family’ safe if she did not keep an eye on unannounced strangers? How could she trust his intentions were pure when she did not even know his name?
So, the young handmaid tailed the man at a distance, bright blue eyes peering around corners to catch glimpses of where he went. She listened outside doors for anything suspicious, hand hovering over the hilt of the knife hidden beneath her chiton. Xan kept her body taut and honed for a reason; if a threat was present, it could be dealt with quickly and accordingly.
Sliding back around the corner as their visitor left the room he currently occupied, she slipped into the shadows to watch from afar. Where was he going? What was he up to? Should she find Lord Fotios and tell him he was here?
No need to bother him until we know more. Perhaps he’s just a friend.
But Xanthippe knew her ladies’ friends, had watched and catalogued them with an intensity that bordered on psychotic. This was no friend she’d ever seen before, and for a woman with Xan’s level of paranoia…
Quick, he’s getting away!
Heeding the warning in her head, Xan followed after him again, sticking close to the wall and ducking into unlit alcoves to remain unseen. The shadows were even friendlier than the divinity in her head, embracing her like a long lost lover. They kept her safe like nothing else, and how many would think to peer into them?
There he goes again!
Cursing under her breath, she kept up her silent chase, intent that he shouldn’t escape her sight again.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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There was a stranger in the Leventi manor.
Xanthippe wasn’t fond of strangers, particularly those who hung around her ladies. Who was this mysterious man who’d appeared so suddenly when her lord was not around? What was his purpose in being here, and when was he going to leave? A creature of routine, she did not appreciate when that routine was interrupted, especially without knowing beforehand.
For a woman who held so many secrets of her own, she despised them in others. Normally, she knew when a guest was coming around; Lord Fotios typically informed her of such. But this man… this man had given no warning, had simply showed up and disappeared with Lady Eirini, and that simply would not do.
Follow him.
This time, she and the gods were in agreement, for how could she keep her ‘family’ safe if she did not keep an eye on unannounced strangers? How could she trust his intentions were pure when she did not even know his name?
So, the young handmaid tailed the man at a distance, bright blue eyes peering around corners to catch glimpses of where he went. She listened outside doors for anything suspicious, hand hovering over the hilt of the knife hidden beneath her chiton. Xan kept her body taut and honed for a reason; if a threat was present, it could be dealt with quickly and accordingly.
Sliding back around the corner as their visitor left the room he currently occupied, she slipped into the shadows to watch from afar. Where was he going? What was he up to? Should she find Lord Fotios and tell him he was here?
No need to bother him until we know more. Perhaps he’s just a friend.
But Xanthippe knew her ladies’ friends, had watched and catalogued them with an intensity that bordered on psychotic. This was no friend she’d ever seen before, and for a woman with Xan’s level of paranoia…
Quick, he’s getting away!
Heeding the warning in her head, Xan followed after him again, sticking close to the wall and ducking into unlit alcoves to remain unseen. The shadows were even friendlier than the divinity in her head, embracing her like a long lost lover. They kept her safe like nothing else, and how many would think to peer into them?
There he goes again!
Cursing under her breath, she kept up her silent chase, intent that he shouldn’t escape her sight again.
There was a stranger in the Leventi manor.
Xanthippe wasn’t fond of strangers, particularly those who hung around her ladies. Who was this mysterious man who’d appeared so suddenly when her lord was not around? What was his purpose in being here, and when was he going to leave? A creature of routine, she did not appreciate when that routine was interrupted, especially without knowing beforehand.
For a woman who held so many secrets of her own, she despised them in others. Normally, she knew when a guest was coming around; Lord Fotios typically informed her of such. But this man… this man had given no warning, had simply showed up and disappeared with Lady Eirini, and that simply would not do.
Follow him.
This time, she and the gods were in agreement, for how could she keep her ‘family’ safe if she did not keep an eye on unannounced strangers? How could she trust his intentions were pure when she did not even know his name?
So, the young handmaid tailed the man at a distance, bright blue eyes peering around corners to catch glimpses of where he went. She listened outside doors for anything suspicious, hand hovering over the hilt of the knife hidden beneath her chiton. Xan kept her body taut and honed for a reason; if a threat was present, it could be dealt with quickly and accordingly.
Sliding back around the corner as their visitor left the room he currently occupied, she slipped into the shadows to watch from afar. Where was he going? What was he up to? Should she find Lord Fotios and tell him he was here?
No need to bother him until we know more. Perhaps he’s just a friend.
But Xanthippe knew her ladies’ friends, had watched and catalogued them with an intensity that bordered on psychotic. This was no friend she’d ever seen before, and for a woman with Xan’s level of paranoia…
Quick, he’s getting away!
Heeding the warning in her head, Xan followed after him again, sticking close to the wall and ducking into unlit alcoves to remain unseen. The shadows were even friendlier than the divinity in her head, embracing her like a long lost lover. They kept her safe like nothing else, and how many would think to peer into them?
There he goes again!
Cursing under her breath, she kept up her silent chase, intent that he shouldn’t escape her sight again.
Lukos had been free from jail for exactly three hours. His clothes were with woman in one of the city squares who washed clothes for coin, and he was walking around in a borrowed black chiton. Getting through the gates of his half sister’s home wasn’t difficult. Show up in clothes nice enough, freshly bathed, smile charmingly, give a good enough excuse and bullshit lie about who you are and how you are just sure you have an appointment with the lady of the house, and you’re in. The servant took him through the immaculate foyer and into a room with an open doorway to await Eirini, or whoever else was home.
For a few seconds, Lukos glanced around, taking in his surroundings but this room was boring. It held nothing of any true value to him. Vases might cost quite a bit, art might be beautiful and the acquiring of it may have taken quite a bit of coin, but it wasn’t exactly something that moved easily in the marketplace. This room was filled with items that required more finesse to pawn than he was willing to mess with. The pay out wasn’t worth the effort and he didn’t care enough about them to bother.
With a palm on either side of the door frame, he leaned out, balancing on the ball of one foot, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t being guarded. How sweet. No guards, and why would there be for a random guest? There was a servant girl dusting something in a corner, but she was paying him no mind and Lukos didn’t imagine she’d actually stop him. And he was right. The girl, if she noticed at all, did absolutely nothing as he left the room he’d been placed in to wander into the hall. He wasn’t truly in the mood to simply thank Eirini and leave. Why not see what exactly his sister lived in? And how well off her husband truly was?
He affixed his hands behind his back and looked about as he entered the next room, which happened to be about as generic and uninteresting as the first. Though, that assessment was probably unfair. It was just that he saw a great many houses of the rich when he came to discuss business and many of them had a same-y quality that made him feel as though one could walk into any wealthy home in Greece and predict what the next room was going to be and mostly what you’d find inside it. Sure, the decoration varied in a minor capacity, but only in so far as color choice and perhaps furniture placement. But the necessary things were there; klines, cushions, statues of whichever god that particular family held dearest, vases depicting some mythos or other, rugs, furs, wall trappings, books no one read in shelves that were only touched by servants.
Moving on from that room, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked back, there was no one there. Frowning, he dismissed that first instance as nothing, but his sense of being watched was now growing and he meandered the house, keeping to the halls where he felt he was unlikely to meet any of the family, taking any corners he came to in a wide arc, swinging lazily around to see who was following him. Once or twice he caught sight of someone he deemed more than likely female, but he had no other notion than that. Typical. This was how he’d met Eirini the first time, though he doubted she’d be skulking in her own home. Likely she would swan in like a princess. It was fitting, then, that she had some sort of servant or maid who acted like she did.
It was time to end the game, however, and Lukos made sure to backtrack, going back to an empty corridor where he’d noticed a few recessed alcoves. If he could time it just right, he could probably trick the person tailing him into revealing themselves. He made sure to keep up his same musing pace until he reached the corner of the hall. Once around it, he sprinted on silent feet into an alcove and pressed himself against the wall, breathing as quietly as he knew how, and waited, listening over the sound of his own heartbeat for whoever was following him to grow confused and pass his hiding place. He’d then slip out behind them, grab them, and see what the fuck was going on.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Lukos had been free from jail for exactly three hours. His clothes were with woman in one of the city squares who washed clothes for coin, and he was walking around in a borrowed black chiton. Getting through the gates of his half sister’s home wasn’t difficult. Show up in clothes nice enough, freshly bathed, smile charmingly, give a good enough excuse and bullshit lie about who you are and how you are just sure you have an appointment with the lady of the house, and you’re in. The servant took him through the immaculate foyer and into a room with an open doorway to await Eirini, or whoever else was home.
For a few seconds, Lukos glanced around, taking in his surroundings but this room was boring. It held nothing of any true value to him. Vases might cost quite a bit, art might be beautiful and the acquiring of it may have taken quite a bit of coin, but it wasn’t exactly something that moved easily in the marketplace. This room was filled with items that required more finesse to pawn than he was willing to mess with. The pay out wasn’t worth the effort and he didn’t care enough about them to bother.
With a palm on either side of the door frame, he leaned out, balancing on the ball of one foot, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t being guarded. How sweet. No guards, and why would there be for a random guest? There was a servant girl dusting something in a corner, but she was paying him no mind and Lukos didn’t imagine she’d actually stop him. And he was right. The girl, if she noticed at all, did absolutely nothing as he left the room he’d been placed in to wander into the hall. He wasn’t truly in the mood to simply thank Eirini and leave. Why not see what exactly his sister lived in? And how well off her husband truly was?
He affixed his hands behind his back and looked about as he entered the next room, which happened to be about as generic and uninteresting as the first. Though, that assessment was probably unfair. It was just that he saw a great many houses of the rich when he came to discuss business and many of them had a same-y quality that made him feel as though one could walk into any wealthy home in Greece and predict what the next room was going to be and mostly what you’d find inside it. Sure, the decoration varied in a minor capacity, but only in so far as color choice and perhaps furniture placement. But the necessary things were there; klines, cushions, statues of whichever god that particular family held dearest, vases depicting some mythos or other, rugs, furs, wall trappings, books no one read in shelves that were only touched by servants.
Moving on from that room, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked back, there was no one there. Frowning, he dismissed that first instance as nothing, but his sense of being watched was now growing and he meandered the house, keeping to the halls where he felt he was unlikely to meet any of the family, taking any corners he came to in a wide arc, swinging lazily around to see who was following him. Once or twice he caught sight of someone he deemed more than likely female, but he had no other notion than that. Typical. This was how he’d met Eirini the first time, though he doubted she’d be skulking in her own home. Likely she would swan in like a princess. It was fitting, then, that she had some sort of servant or maid who acted like she did.
It was time to end the game, however, and Lukos made sure to backtrack, going back to an empty corridor where he’d noticed a few recessed alcoves. If he could time it just right, he could probably trick the person tailing him into revealing themselves. He made sure to keep up his same musing pace until he reached the corner of the hall. Once around it, he sprinted on silent feet into an alcove and pressed himself against the wall, breathing as quietly as he knew how, and waited, listening over the sound of his own heartbeat for whoever was following him to grow confused and pass his hiding place. He’d then slip out behind them, grab them, and see what the fuck was going on.
Lukos had been free from jail for exactly three hours. His clothes were with woman in one of the city squares who washed clothes for coin, and he was walking around in a borrowed black chiton. Getting through the gates of his half sister’s home wasn’t difficult. Show up in clothes nice enough, freshly bathed, smile charmingly, give a good enough excuse and bullshit lie about who you are and how you are just sure you have an appointment with the lady of the house, and you’re in. The servant took him through the immaculate foyer and into a room with an open doorway to await Eirini, or whoever else was home.
For a few seconds, Lukos glanced around, taking in his surroundings but this room was boring. It held nothing of any true value to him. Vases might cost quite a bit, art might be beautiful and the acquiring of it may have taken quite a bit of coin, but it wasn’t exactly something that moved easily in the marketplace. This room was filled with items that required more finesse to pawn than he was willing to mess with. The pay out wasn’t worth the effort and he didn’t care enough about them to bother.
With a palm on either side of the door frame, he leaned out, balancing on the ball of one foot, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t being guarded. How sweet. No guards, and why would there be for a random guest? There was a servant girl dusting something in a corner, but she was paying him no mind and Lukos didn’t imagine she’d actually stop him. And he was right. The girl, if she noticed at all, did absolutely nothing as he left the room he’d been placed in to wander into the hall. He wasn’t truly in the mood to simply thank Eirini and leave. Why not see what exactly his sister lived in? And how well off her husband truly was?
He affixed his hands behind his back and looked about as he entered the next room, which happened to be about as generic and uninteresting as the first. Though, that assessment was probably unfair. It was just that he saw a great many houses of the rich when he came to discuss business and many of them had a same-y quality that made him feel as though one could walk into any wealthy home in Greece and predict what the next room was going to be and mostly what you’d find inside it. Sure, the decoration varied in a minor capacity, but only in so far as color choice and perhaps furniture placement. But the necessary things were there; klines, cushions, statues of whichever god that particular family held dearest, vases depicting some mythos or other, rugs, furs, wall trappings, books no one read in shelves that were only touched by servants.
Moving on from that room, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked back, there was no one there. Frowning, he dismissed that first instance as nothing, but his sense of being watched was now growing and he meandered the house, keeping to the halls where he felt he was unlikely to meet any of the family, taking any corners he came to in a wide arc, swinging lazily around to see who was following him. Once or twice he caught sight of someone he deemed more than likely female, but he had no other notion than that. Typical. This was how he’d met Eirini the first time, though he doubted she’d be skulking in her own home. Likely she would swan in like a princess. It was fitting, then, that she had some sort of servant or maid who acted like she did.
It was time to end the game, however, and Lukos made sure to backtrack, going back to an empty corridor where he’d noticed a few recessed alcoves. If he could time it just right, he could probably trick the person tailing him into revealing themselves. He made sure to keep up his same musing pace until he reached the corner of the hall. Once around it, he sprinted on silent feet into an alcove and pressed himself against the wall, breathing as quietly as he knew how, and waited, listening over the sound of his own heartbeat for whoever was following him to grow confused and pass his hiding place. He’d then slip out behind them, grab them, and see what the fuck was going on.
So far, she’d avoided detection, dipping out of sight whenever the man happened to glance back. But this one had keener senses than most, it seemed; that he detected her at all was almost a novelty in itself. Most were not aware when she followed them, not since she was young. Either he was particularly observant, or she was getting sloppy. Xanthippe leaned more toward the former.
That fact alone told her that he probably wasn’t noble. Those born to privilege had no need for paranoid glances or suspicious turns. They could pay others to watch their backs for them, if they had a need to be watched at all. While Xan could be considered privileged with the way she’d been raised, she knew what danger was. She knew what it meant to have to watch your own back, to guard a secret so fiercely that it meant more than your own life.
Maybe he has secrets too.
Secrets are dangerous.
Learn his before he learns yours.
If he wasn’t noble, what was he doing here, skulking about the manor like he deserved to walk its halls? Maybe he did have secrets, like the gods suggested. And what if those secrets were a threat to them all?
She watched the man turn down another hall, hanging back for a moment before she followed. There was only one way to go down that hall, a corner that veered right at the opposite end. He wouldn’t be able to get very far without her catching up; after all, she knew this manor better than he could ever hope to. The handmaid could walk it in her sleep.
Perhaps a bit overconfident, she rounded the same corner as the stranger, walking down the hall at an unhurried pace. Not expecting him to pull one of her own tricks, the man hidden in one of the dugout alcoves, she gasped in surprise when she was suddenly lunged at from behind.
Stupid girl. They’re not all as stupid as you, you know.
As if I’m defenseless.
Before he could completely grab hold of her, she slammed out with her elbows in a move meant to break his grasp. Whirling around faster than one might have expected from a lady’s maid, Xanthippe slid the knife out from under her gown in the same motion. Blade held in a sure hand in front of her, she made to back him up against the same wall he’d practically sprung out of.
“I wouldn’t do that again if I were you,” she informed him coolly. “I know at least a dozen ways to kill a man in under a minute, and I’ve no qualms about using any of them.”
Head tilting to the side as she gazed at him, her expression never changed from one of detached curiosity. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
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So far, she’d avoided detection, dipping out of sight whenever the man happened to glance back. But this one had keener senses than most, it seemed; that he detected her at all was almost a novelty in itself. Most were not aware when she followed them, not since she was young. Either he was particularly observant, or she was getting sloppy. Xanthippe leaned more toward the former.
That fact alone told her that he probably wasn’t noble. Those born to privilege had no need for paranoid glances or suspicious turns. They could pay others to watch their backs for them, if they had a need to be watched at all. While Xan could be considered privileged with the way she’d been raised, she knew what danger was. She knew what it meant to have to watch your own back, to guard a secret so fiercely that it meant more than your own life.
Maybe he has secrets too.
Secrets are dangerous.
Learn his before he learns yours.
If he wasn’t noble, what was he doing here, skulking about the manor like he deserved to walk its halls? Maybe he did have secrets, like the gods suggested. And what if those secrets were a threat to them all?
She watched the man turn down another hall, hanging back for a moment before she followed. There was only one way to go down that hall, a corner that veered right at the opposite end. He wouldn’t be able to get very far without her catching up; after all, she knew this manor better than he could ever hope to. The handmaid could walk it in her sleep.
Perhaps a bit overconfident, she rounded the same corner as the stranger, walking down the hall at an unhurried pace. Not expecting him to pull one of her own tricks, the man hidden in one of the dugout alcoves, she gasped in surprise when she was suddenly lunged at from behind.
Stupid girl. They’re not all as stupid as you, you know.
As if I’m defenseless.
Before he could completely grab hold of her, she slammed out with her elbows in a move meant to break his grasp. Whirling around faster than one might have expected from a lady’s maid, Xanthippe slid the knife out from under her gown in the same motion. Blade held in a sure hand in front of her, she made to back him up against the same wall he’d practically sprung out of.
“I wouldn’t do that again if I were you,” she informed him coolly. “I know at least a dozen ways to kill a man in under a minute, and I’ve no qualms about using any of them.”
Head tilting to the side as she gazed at him, her expression never changed from one of detached curiosity. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
So far, she’d avoided detection, dipping out of sight whenever the man happened to glance back. But this one had keener senses than most, it seemed; that he detected her at all was almost a novelty in itself. Most were not aware when she followed them, not since she was young. Either he was particularly observant, or she was getting sloppy. Xanthippe leaned more toward the former.
That fact alone told her that he probably wasn’t noble. Those born to privilege had no need for paranoid glances or suspicious turns. They could pay others to watch their backs for them, if they had a need to be watched at all. While Xan could be considered privileged with the way she’d been raised, she knew what danger was. She knew what it meant to have to watch your own back, to guard a secret so fiercely that it meant more than your own life.
Maybe he has secrets too.
Secrets are dangerous.
Learn his before he learns yours.
If he wasn’t noble, what was he doing here, skulking about the manor like he deserved to walk its halls? Maybe he did have secrets, like the gods suggested. And what if those secrets were a threat to them all?
She watched the man turn down another hall, hanging back for a moment before she followed. There was only one way to go down that hall, a corner that veered right at the opposite end. He wouldn’t be able to get very far without her catching up; after all, she knew this manor better than he could ever hope to. The handmaid could walk it in her sleep.
Perhaps a bit overconfident, she rounded the same corner as the stranger, walking down the hall at an unhurried pace. Not expecting him to pull one of her own tricks, the man hidden in one of the dugout alcoves, she gasped in surprise when she was suddenly lunged at from behind.
Stupid girl. They’re not all as stupid as you, you know.
As if I’m defenseless.
Before he could completely grab hold of her, she slammed out with her elbows in a move meant to break his grasp. Whirling around faster than one might have expected from a lady’s maid, Xanthippe slid the knife out from under her gown in the same motion. Blade held in a sure hand in front of her, she made to back him up against the same wall he’d practically sprung out of.
“I wouldn’t do that again if I were you,” she informed him coolly. “I know at least a dozen ways to kill a man in under a minute, and I’ve no qualms about using any of them.”
Head tilting to the side as she gazed at him, her expression never changed from one of detached curiosity. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
He’d pressed himself into the stone, eyes unfocused, listening to her steps echo softly in the empty corridor. She didn’t tromp on the stone like some careless maid. Her sandals whispered along the floor, the rustling fabric of her dress, which would have been imperceptible if he hadn’t been listening for it, betraying her location. It wasn’t like Lukos was inexperienced in taking people. That was a good chunk of his profession, except he didn’t usually have to hide in an alcove to do it.
Letting barely a second pass after she’d first crossed his sights, he sprang. Her gasp of surprise echoed in his ears as his fingers wrapped around her arms but his grip wasn’t firm enough before she struck out her elbows, jerking out of his reach. Her hair whirled in his face as she spun around, momentarily blinding him but he didn’t dare let her get all the way facing him before he struck out. Lunging at her again, he barely registered the flash of metal before he was backpedaling, reaching behind him for his own dirk only to find himself pressed immediately against the wall in the alcove he’d just been hiding in.
"I wouldn’t do that again if I were you." Her voice was cold and he only got the passing impression of bright blue eyes and a pouty mouth before he was looking down at her knife held threatening close to him. His eyes dropped to her hand, checking how steady it might be. Pretty damn steady. Flicking his glare back to her face, he barely paid attention to her as she spoke. Something about cutting him. Novel.
"Now, if you wouldn’t mind. Who are you, and what are you doing here?" It was the tilting of her head, that momentary lapse in absolute tension that made him explode at her. His knee jerked up, catching her hand and he bodily flung himself on her, his own dirk slicing through the air, the tip shoved hard beneath her ribs.
“One thrust up and I can pierce your lung. If I dig I can get your heart,” he smiled at her. “Care to play nice?” They were against something, either the floor or the other wall. The world had tipped somewhat and he didn’t dare look away from her while he had one arm around her, while the other gripped the hilt of his knife, willing to spill blood in his sister’s house. Lukos searched her eyes, narrowing his own, sensing some serious lack of normalcy from this woman. Usually people had an intense fear, or they were cowering, possibly tearing up by this point. He was looking for some sign the she recognized the seriousness of the situation she’d flung them into. Or...had he escalated it? Didn’t matter. This would be completely awkward to explain to anyone who chose to walk down this particular hall at this particular moment.
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He’d pressed himself into the stone, eyes unfocused, listening to her steps echo softly in the empty corridor. She didn’t tromp on the stone like some careless maid. Her sandals whispered along the floor, the rustling fabric of her dress, which would have been imperceptible if he hadn’t been listening for it, betraying her location. It wasn’t like Lukos was inexperienced in taking people. That was a good chunk of his profession, except he didn’t usually have to hide in an alcove to do it.
Letting barely a second pass after she’d first crossed his sights, he sprang. Her gasp of surprise echoed in his ears as his fingers wrapped around her arms but his grip wasn’t firm enough before she struck out her elbows, jerking out of his reach. Her hair whirled in his face as she spun around, momentarily blinding him but he didn’t dare let her get all the way facing him before he struck out. Lunging at her again, he barely registered the flash of metal before he was backpedaling, reaching behind him for his own dirk only to find himself pressed immediately against the wall in the alcove he’d just been hiding in.
"I wouldn’t do that again if I were you." Her voice was cold and he only got the passing impression of bright blue eyes and a pouty mouth before he was looking down at her knife held threatening close to him. His eyes dropped to her hand, checking how steady it might be. Pretty damn steady. Flicking his glare back to her face, he barely paid attention to her as she spoke. Something about cutting him. Novel.
"Now, if you wouldn’t mind. Who are you, and what are you doing here?" It was the tilting of her head, that momentary lapse in absolute tension that made him explode at her. His knee jerked up, catching her hand and he bodily flung himself on her, his own dirk slicing through the air, the tip shoved hard beneath her ribs.
“One thrust up and I can pierce your lung. If I dig I can get your heart,” he smiled at her. “Care to play nice?” They were against something, either the floor or the other wall. The world had tipped somewhat and he didn’t dare look away from her while he had one arm around her, while the other gripped the hilt of his knife, willing to spill blood in his sister’s house. Lukos searched her eyes, narrowing his own, sensing some serious lack of normalcy from this woman. Usually people had an intense fear, or they were cowering, possibly tearing up by this point. He was looking for some sign the she recognized the seriousness of the situation she’d flung them into. Or...had he escalated it? Didn’t matter. This would be completely awkward to explain to anyone who chose to walk down this particular hall at this particular moment.
He’d pressed himself into the stone, eyes unfocused, listening to her steps echo softly in the empty corridor. She didn’t tromp on the stone like some careless maid. Her sandals whispered along the floor, the rustling fabric of her dress, which would have been imperceptible if he hadn’t been listening for it, betraying her location. It wasn’t like Lukos was inexperienced in taking people. That was a good chunk of his profession, except he didn’t usually have to hide in an alcove to do it.
Letting barely a second pass after she’d first crossed his sights, he sprang. Her gasp of surprise echoed in his ears as his fingers wrapped around her arms but his grip wasn’t firm enough before she struck out her elbows, jerking out of his reach. Her hair whirled in his face as she spun around, momentarily blinding him but he didn’t dare let her get all the way facing him before he struck out. Lunging at her again, he barely registered the flash of metal before he was backpedaling, reaching behind him for his own dirk only to find himself pressed immediately against the wall in the alcove he’d just been hiding in.
"I wouldn’t do that again if I were you." Her voice was cold and he only got the passing impression of bright blue eyes and a pouty mouth before he was looking down at her knife held threatening close to him. His eyes dropped to her hand, checking how steady it might be. Pretty damn steady. Flicking his glare back to her face, he barely paid attention to her as she spoke. Something about cutting him. Novel.
"Now, if you wouldn’t mind. Who are you, and what are you doing here?" It was the tilting of her head, that momentary lapse in absolute tension that made him explode at her. His knee jerked up, catching her hand and he bodily flung himself on her, his own dirk slicing through the air, the tip shoved hard beneath her ribs.
“One thrust up and I can pierce your lung. If I dig I can get your heart,” he smiled at her. “Care to play nice?” They were against something, either the floor or the other wall. The world had tipped somewhat and he didn’t dare look away from her while he had one arm around her, while the other gripped the hilt of his knife, willing to spill blood in his sister’s house. Lukos searched her eyes, narrowing his own, sensing some serious lack of normalcy from this woman. Usually people had an intense fear, or they were cowering, possibly tearing up by this point. He was looking for some sign the she recognized the seriousness of the situation she’d flung them into. Or...had he escalated it? Didn’t matter. This would be completely awkward to explain to anyone who chose to walk down this particular hall at this particular moment.
Overconfident that she had him pinned, Xanthippe’s eyes widened in surprise again as he leapt at her. The hand holding her knife was caught up in his grasp, the stranger tackling her to the floor and knocking the breath clean from her lungs. It was only divine providence that kept her head from bouncing back against the flagstones; since the gods seemed so keen to take up residence in her head, she felt they ought to protect her from time to time.
We protect you always.
You’re still alive, aren’t you?
Ignoring them for now—she had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment—Xan took a moment to catch her breath while the man held her in a dreadful mockery of a lovers’ embrace. She could feel the point of his blade pressed against her, could feel the prickle of its teeth longing against her skin, and felt… nothing. What was death to a creature like her? It came for them all eventually, and if hers came as the result of protecting the only people in this world she gave a damn about… so be it.
Her own knife rested in the palm of her hand, the arm it was attached to trapped against her side in a vicelike grip. How had she managed to be the one trapped, the one who wore the silken shadows like a cloak and claimed the velvet night as her refuge? The irony that she should be bested in the only place she’d ever been able to call home, while she sought to protect that home…
Xanthippe couldn’t help but laugh.
A cruel smile tilted plush lips, pushing against the knife he threatened her with, hard enough to draw a prick of blood beneath the gauzy fabric of her peplos. Pain and fear were nothing but constructs to keep the weak in line; she’d die before he ever saw her tremble or heard her beg.
“Do it, I dare you,” she whispered with a low laugh, bright, maddened eyes never leaving his as she slowly started to shimmy her arm from his grasp. If he killed her, the gods’ chosen, would he suffer their wrath? She liked to think they’d take some vindication for her after all she’d done for them over the years. Or would they simply write her off as a lost asset? Would they just pick someone else?
“You like it, don’t you?” she murmured, pressing her body against his, his knife digging in a little deeper against her flesh. “Holding the power of someone’s life in your hands? Let me tell you a secret.” Using the gap moving her body had created, she quickly freed her arm and wrapped it around him, holding the tip of her knife against his back between two ribs where she could puncture his own lung. Her smile broadened, pressing her cheek against his and whispering in his ear, “So do I.”
Madness called to madness, after all, and she’d be damned if this man wasn’t as fucked up as she was.
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Overconfident that she had him pinned, Xanthippe’s eyes widened in surprise again as he leapt at her. The hand holding her knife was caught up in his grasp, the stranger tackling her to the floor and knocking the breath clean from her lungs. It was only divine providence that kept her head from bouncing back against the flagstones; since the gods seemed so keen to take up residence in her head, she felt they ought to protect her from time to time.
We protect you always.
You’re still alive, aren’t you?
Ignoring them for now—she had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment—Xan took a moment to catch her breath while the man held her in a dreadful mockery of a lovers’ embrace. She could feel the point of his blade pressed against her, could feel the prickle of its teeth longing against her skin, and felt… nothing. What was death to a creature like her? It came for them all eventually, and if hers came as the result of protecting the only people in this world she gave a damn about… so be it.
Her own knife rested in the palm of her hand, the arm it was attached to trapped against her side in a vicelike grip. How had she managed to be the one trapped, the one who wore the silken shadows like a cloak and claimed the velvet night as her refuge? The irony that she should be bested in the only place she’d ever been able to call home, while she sought to protect that home…
Xanthippe couldn’t help but laugh.
A cruel smile tilted plush lips, pushing against the knife he threatened her with, hard enough to draw a prick of blood beneath the gauzy fabric of her peplos. Pain and fear were nothing but constructs to keep the weak in line; she’d die before he ever saw her tremble or heard her beg.
“Do it, I dare you,” she whispered with a low laugh, bright, maddened eyes never leaving his as she slowly started to shimmy her arm from his grasp. If he killed her, the gods’ chosen, would he suffer their wrath? She liked to think they’d take some vindication for her after all she’d done for them over the years. Or would they simply write her off as a lost asset? Would they just pick someone else?
“You like it, don’t you?” she murmured, pressing her body against his, his knife digging in a little deeper against her flesh. “Holding the power of someone’s life in your hands? Let me tell you a secret.” Using the gap moving her body had created, she quickly freed her arm and wrapped it around him, holding the tip of her knife against his back between two ribs where she could puncture his own lung. Her smile broadened, pressing her cheek against his and whispering in his ear, “So do I.”
Madness called to madness, after all, and she’d be damned if this man wasn’t as fucked up as she was.
Overconfident that she had him pinned, Xanthippe’s eyes widened in surprise again as he leapt at her. The hand holding her knife was caught up in his grasp, the stranger tackling her to the floor and knocking the breath clean from her lungs. It was only divine providence that kept her head from bouncing back against the flagstones; since the gods seemed so keen to take up residence in her head, she felt they ought to protect her from time to time.
We protect you always.
You’re still alive, aren’t you?
Ignoring them for now—she had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment—Xan took a moment to catch her breath while the man held her in a dreadful mockery of a lovers’ embrace. She could feel the point of his blade pressed against her, could feel the prickle of its teeth longing against her skin, and felt… nothing. What was death to a creature like her? It came for them all eventually, and if hers came as the result of protecting the only people in this world she gave a damn about… so be it.
Her own knife rested in the palm of her hand, the arm it was attached to trapped against her side in a vicelike grip. How had she managed to be the one trapped, the one who wore the silken shadows like a cloak and claimed the velvet night as her refuge? The irony that she should be bested in the only place she’d ever been able to call home, while she sought to protect that home…
Xanthippe couldn’t help but laugh.
A cruel smile tilted plush lips, pushing against the knife he threatened her with, hard enough to draw a prick of blood beneath the gauzy fabric of her peplos. Pain and fear were nothing but constructs to keep the weak in line; she’d die before he ever saw her tremble or heard her beg.
“Do it, I dare you,” she whispered with a low laugh, bright, maddened eyes never leaving his as she slowly started to shimmy her arm from his grasp. If he killed her, the gods’ chosen, would he suffer their wrath? She liked to think they’d take some vindication for her after all she’d done for them over the years. Or would they simply write her off as a lost asset? Would they just pick someone else?
“You like it, don’t you?” she murmured, pressing her body against his, his knife digging in a little deeper against her flesh. “Holding the power of someone’s life in your hands? Let me tell you a secret.” Using the gap moving her body had created, she quickly freed her arm and wrapped it around him, holding the tip of her knife against his back between two ribs where she could puncture his own lung. Her smile broadened, pressing her cheek against his and whispering in his ear, “So do I.”
Madness called to madness, after all, and she’d be damned if this man wasn’t as fucked up as she was.
Her laughter made him quirk his brows at her but he didn’t ease the tip of the knife away from her. If anything it made him realize he was definitely dealing with a woman who wasn’t quite right in the head and as she grinned at him, wiggling to push the knife deeper, Lukos’s lips parted. Her ribs put pressure against the knife’s tip and he knew the intimate sensation of subtle surrender once skin broke. The give in tension and the new path forged by the blade.
"Do it,” she challenged. ”I dare you." As she said it, she writhed beneath him and, gods help him, he allowed it. Though his eyes never left her face, his attention was on the contact between her body and his, and how she didn’t seem the least bit concerned that blood was trickling down her side. His pupils were huge and when she accused him of liking it, he responded by sliding the tip of the knife harder into her flesh, his breathing becoming shallow. How much would she take, he wondered? Wanting to see how much red was on her dress, he flicked his eyes down to her ribs, exhaling at the sight.
He wasn’t listening while she whispered to him. His attention moved slowly back up to her face and he had the insane, momentary flash of want to take her right here in this hallway. Insane, because he could feel her taking her hand out from his grasp, and without seeing the knife, knew she was bringing her own back out again. He didn’t even move away when she pressed it against his side, merely dropping his head as she leaned up ever so slightly, cheek brushing his, to whisper in his ear. ”So do I.”
Her face was warm and he could feel the thrum of her pulse against his cheek. Leaning into her knife, he didn’t wince at the initial burn of the first break of skin. The burn floated into pain as he mirrored on himself what he did to her, sliding his knife further into her. She didn’t have on expensive scents. She smelled like nothing and he wondered if she tasted like that too.
“I came to speak with my sister,” he murmured to her, his voice a low rumble in his chest and reaching no further than her ear. He studied the fine baby hairs at the edge of her ear, where her hair was pulled back over the opposite shoulder. His focus fell on the hint of her breath, wondering how much she’d let him get away with before she made him actually kill her. It didn’t how matter how much she attracted him in this moment. The second she signaled this wasn’t a game, he’d end this and simply apologize to Eirini about the mess.
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Her laughter made him quirk his brows at her but he didn’t ease the tip of the knife away from her. If anything it made him realize he was definitely dealing with a woman who wasn’t quite right in the head and as she grinned at him, wiggling to push the knife deeper, Lukos’s lips parted. Her ribs put pressure against the knife’s tip and he knew the intimate sensation of subtle surrender once skin broke. The give in tension and the new path forged by the blade.
"Do it,” she challenged. ”I dare you." As she said it, she writhed beneath him and, gods help him, he allowed it. Though his eyes never left her face, his attention was on the contact between her body and his, and how she didn’t seem the least bit concerned that blood was trickling down her side. His pupils were huge and when she accused him of liking it, he responded by sliding the tip of the knife harder into her flesh, his breathing becoming shallow. How much would she take, he wondered? Wanting to see how much red was on her dress, he flicked his eyes down to her ribs, exhaling at the sight.
He wasn’t listening while she whispered to him. His attention moved slowly back up to her face and he had the insane, momentary flash of want to take her right here in this hallway. Insane, because he could feel her taking her hand out from his grasp, and without seeing the knife, knew she was bringing her own back out again. He didn’t even move away when she pressed it against his side, merely dropping his head as she leaned up ever so slightly, cheek brushing his, to whisper in his ear. ”So do I.”
Her face was warm and he could feel the thrum of her pulse against his cheek. Leaning into her knife, he didn’t wince at the initial burn of the first break of skin. The burn floated into pain as he mirrored on himself what he did to her, sliding his knife further into her. She didn’t have on expensive scents. She smelled like nothing and he wondered if she tasted like that too.
“I came to speak with my sister,” he murmured to her, his voice a low rumble in his chest and reaching no further than her ear. He studied the fine baby hairs at the edge of her ear, where her hair was pulled back over the opposite shoulder. His focus fell on the hint of her breath, wondering how much she’d let him get away with before she made him actually kill her. It didn’t how matter how much she attracted him in this moment. The second she signaled this wasn’t a game, he’d end this and simply apologize to Eirini about the mess.
Her laughter made him quirk his brows at her but he didn’t ease the tip of the knife away from her. If anything it made him realize he was definitely dealing with a woman who wasn’t quite right in the head and as she grinned at him, wiggling to push the knife deeper, Lukos’s lips parted. Her ribs put pressure against the knife’s tip and he knew the intimate sensation of subtle surrender once skin broke. The give in tension and the new path forged by the blade.
"Do it,” she challenged. ”I dare you." As she said it, she writhed beneath him and, gods help him, he allowed it. Though his eyes never left her face, his attention was on the contact between her body and his, and how she didn’t seem the least bit concerned that blood was trickling down her side. His pupils were huge and when she accused him of liking it, he responded by sliding the tip of the knife harder into her flesh, his breathing becoming shallow. How much would she take, he wondered? Wanting to see how much red was on her dress, he flicked his eyes down to her ribs, exhaling at the sight.
He wasn’t listening while she whispered to him. His attention moved slowly back up to her face and he had the insane, momentary flash of want to take her right here in this hallway. Insane, because he could feel her taking her hand out from his grasp, and without seeing the knife, knew she was bringing her own back out again. He didn’t even move away when she pressed it against his side, merely dropping his head as she leaned up ever so slightly, cheek brushing his, to whisper in his ear. ”So do I.”
Her face was warm and he could feel the thrum of her pulse against his cheek. Leaning into her knife, he didn’t wince at the initial burn of the first break of skin. The burn floated into pain as he mirrored on himself what he did to her, sliding his knife further into her. She didn’t have on expensive scents. She smelled like nothing and he wondered if she tasted like that too.
“I came to speak with my sister,” he murmured to her, his voice a low rumble in his chest and reaching no further than her ear. He studied the fine baby hairs at the edge of her ear, where her hair was pulled back over the opposite shoulder. His focus fell on the hint of her breath, wondering how much she’d let him get away with before she made him actually kill her. It didn’t how matter how much she attracted him in this moment. The second she signaled this wasn’t a game, he’d end this and simply apologize to Eirini about the mess.
Something savage lit up in her eyes when he mirrored her own movements, pushing himself onto her knife just as she did to his. There was something strangely intimate about their exchange, the blood dripping and pooling on the floor together, while Xanthippe watched it gather with a macabre fascination. This was about the last reaction she’d expected, and it would seem this man was bound to surprise her again and again before their encounter was through.
She didn’t so much as wince as the knife slid further into her flesh, the hitch of his breath cluing her in that he was perhaps enjoying this a bit more than any rational man should. Clearly, he was not a rational man, and Xanthippe wasn’t sure if that was in his favor or against it. She’d expected him to concede, or at least back off, not join her little game with as much vigor as she’d started it.
The question now was, who would surrender first?
Adrenaline surged through her anew as she turned her head slightly to look at him, listening to his explanation with a lifted brow. His sister? Was that why he’d disappeared with Eirini before? He was her… brother?
Lord Fotios and I are not the only ones with secrets in this house, eh?
“My, my, my, what a hidden gem you are, hm?” Her voice was hardly more than a purr, subtly twisting the knife she held rather than pushing it any further in. “Lady Eirini’s brother, of all people. You might have just told me that, you know. None of this would have been necessary.” She laughed, a little shorter of breath now that his dirk was sliding between her ribs. Her free hand turned his face toward hers, holding it there as she examined his features—the parted lips, the dilated eyes, the light flush in his cheeks. He was enjoying this? Then again, wasn’t she? “Something tells me you like this better though, don’t you?”
Kill him before he kills you.
What fun is that?[/i]
“Your name?” she prodded, twisting the knife a little further. This time, she did push in a little harder, raptly watching his face for his reaction. Would he cringe? Would he pull away? Would he hiss or cry out? “I’ve been here almost all my life. Why haven’t I seen you before? Why are you here now?”
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Something savage lit up in her eyes when he mirrored her own movements, pushing himself onto her knife just as she did to his. There was something strangely intimate about their exchange, the blood dripping and pooling on the floor together, while Xanthippe watched it gather with a macabre fascination. This was about the last reaction she’d expected, and it would seem this man was bound to surprise her again and again before their encounter was through.
She didn’t so much as wince as the knife slid further into her flesh, the hitch of his breath cluing her in that he was perhaps enjoying this a bit more than any rational man should. Clearly, he was not a rational man, and Xanthippe wasn’t sure if that was in his favor or against it. She’d expected him to concede, or at least back off, not join her little game with as much vigor as she’d started it.
The question now was, who would surrender first?
Adrenaline surged through her anew as she turned her head slightly to look at him, listening to his explanation with a lifted brow. His sister? Was that why he’d disappeared with Eirini before? He was her… brother?
Lord Fotios and I are not the only ones with secrets in this house, eh?
“My, my, my, what a hidden gem you are, hm?” Her voice was hardly more than a purr, subtly twisting the knife she held rather than pushing it any further in. “Lady Eirini’s brother, of all people. You might have just told me that, you know. None of this would have been necessary.” She laughed, a little shorter of breath now that his dirk was sliding between her ribs. Her free hand turned his face toward hers, holding it there as she examined his features—the parted lips, the dilated eyes, the light flush in his cheeks. He was enjoying this? Then again, wasn’t she? “Something tells me you like this better though, don’t you?”
Kill him before he kills you.
What fun is that?[/i]
“Your name?” she prodded, twisting the knife a little further. This time, she did push in a little harder, raptly watching his face for his reaction. Would he cringe? Would he pull away? Would he hiss or cry out? “I’ve been here almost all my life. Why haven’t I seen you before? Why are you here now?”
Something savage lit up in her eyes when he mirrored her own movements, pushing himself onto her knife just as she did to his. There was something strangely intimate about their exchange, the blood dripping and pooling on the floor together, while Xanthippe watched it gather with a macabre fascination. This was about the last reaction she’d expected, and it would seem this man was bound to surprise her again and again before their encounter was through.
She didn’t so much as wince as the knife slid further into her flesh, the hitch of his breath cluing her in that he was perhaps enjoying this a bit more than any rational man should. Clearly, he was not a rational man, and Xanthippe wasn’t sure if that was in his favor or against it. She’d expected him to concede, or at least back off, not join her little game with as much vigor as she’d started it.
The question now was, who would surrender first?
Adrenaline surged through her anew as she turned her head slightly to look at him, listening to his explanation with a lifted brow. His sister? Was that why he’d disappeared with Eirini before? He was her… brother?
Lord Fotios and I are not the only ones with secrets in this house, eh?
“My, my, my, what a hidden gem you are, hm?” Her voice was hardly more than a purr, subtly twisting the knife she held rather than pushing it any further in. “Lady Eirini’s brother, of all people. You might have just told me that, you know. None of this would have been necessary.” She laughed, a little shorter of breath now that his dirk was sliding between her ribs. Her free hand turned his face toward hers, holding it there as she examined his features—the parted lips, the dilated eyes, the light flush in his cheeks. He was enjoying this? Then again, wasn’t she? “Something tells me you like this better though, don’t you?”
Kill him before he kills you.
What fun is that?[/i]
“Your name?” she prodded, twisting the knife a little further. This time, she did push in a little harder, raptly watching his face for his reaction. Would he cringe? Would he pull away? Would he hiss or cry out? “I’ve been here almost all my life. Why haven’t I seen you before? Why are you here now?”
It was her brows knitting together that informed him that Eirini was keeping him a secret. Why would that be, he wondered? Was she so ashamed that she couldn’t face her past? How much would she pay to keep that past hidden? Was it worth extorting her or perhaps he should see what being on good terms might yield? Visions of enhancements to his ship drifted through his thoughts. Fine scarlet sails with no tatters, new black paint on the hull. He could probably rip out the entire railing on both sides of the deck and commision new ones...The possibilities were endless. There was a list of at least a thousand tiny things that he’d like to have done to his ship. It would require a ton of money and months of the vessel being kept in a shipyard while the more extensive repairs or changes were going on. As it stood, the Aceton was old and comprised of several different ships. Its patchwork design was mostly hidden by paint and a lack of common knowledge of other seafaring vessels from other lands. Even Lukos wasn’t totally sure where all of it came from and it was built well before he was ever born. But he knew that ship better than he knew any person and trusted it more besides.
“I am a treasure,” he murmured in agreement. The only signal he gave that her twisting of the knife hurt was a minor narrowing of his eyes as he returned the favor. His own wrist curled deftly, digging into her just that littlest bit. He wanted to hear her cry out or give in. He studied the slope of her nose and the crease of her brows as she insinuated that he could have said something before. To that, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Her behavior had not endeared her to him and had sent off all the warning bells a person possibly could. That was why they were in this mess.
“If you’d let me go about my business and not interfered, we wouldn’t be playing now,” he said while she studied his face in return. In response to her musing about their current predicament, he said nothing. Nor did he give her his name, nor did he answer her question about his purpose. Instead, he smirked at her, pupils still blown, and edged his blade in enough to make it truly hurt. This was the part where it stopped being fun and turned steeply to real danger. There was only so far into her that he could go before the blade inflicted more than surface damage to her, no doubt, pristine body. Until now, the tip of the blade slipped under her flesh with the caress of a breath. Now the bite was coming and with it, fangs that would shred her if given the chance.
“You can’t detain me,” he reminded her. “Obviously your mistress trusts you as little as I should if she’s kept this from you.” He didn’t need a knife to slice her. Wetting his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, he considered her more carefully, a new idea forming. “How well do you serve your mistress? How am I to know you have her best interests at heart? If she doesn’t trust you, how can I with things you aren’t paid to know.”
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It was her brows knitting together that informed him that Eirini was keeping him a secret. Why would that be, he wondered? Was she so ashamed that she couldn’t face her past? How much would she pay to keep that past hidden? Was it worth extorting her or perhaps he should see what being on good terms might yield? Visions of enhancements to his ship drifted through his thoughts. Fine scarlet sails with no tatters, new black paint on the hull. He could probably rip out the entire railing on both sides of the deck and commision new ones...The possibilities were endless. There was a list of at least a thousand tiny things that he’d like to have done to his ship. It would require a ton of money and months of the vessel being kept in a shipyard while the more extensive repairs or changes were going on. As it stood, the Aceton was old and comprised of several different ships. Its patchwork design was mostly hidden by paint and a lack of common knowledge of other seafaring vessels from other lands. Even Lukos wasn’t totally sure where all of it came from and it was built well before he was ever born. But he knew that ship better than he knew any person and trusted it more besides.
“I am a treasure,” he murmured in agreement. The only signal he gave that her twisting of the knife hurt was a minor narrowing of his eyes as he returned the favor. His own wrist curled deftly, digging into her just that littlest bit. He wanted to hear her cry out or give in. He studied the slope of her nose and the crease of her brows as she insinuated that he could have said something before. To that, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Her behavior had not endeared her to him and had sent off all the warning bells a person possibly could. That was why they were in this mess.
“If you’d let me go about my business and not interfered, we wouldn’t be playing now,” he said while she studied his face in return. In response to her musing about their current predicament, he said nothing. Nor did he give her his name, nor did he answer her question about his purpose. Instead, he smirked at her, pupils still blown, and edged his blade in enough to make it truly hurt. This was the part where it stopped being fun and turned steeply to real danger. There was only so far into her that he could go before the blade inflicted more than surface damage to her, no doubt, pristine body. Until now, the tip of the blade slipped under her flesh with the caress of a breath. Now the bite was coming and with it, fangs that would shred her if given the chance.
“You can’t detain me,” he reminded her. “Obviously your mistress trusts you as little as I should if she’s kept this from you.” He didn’t need a knife to slice her. Wetting his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, he considered her more carefully, a new idea forming. “How well do you serve your mistress? How am I to know you have her best interests at heart? If she doesn’t trust you, how can I with things you aren’t paid to know.”
It was her brows knitting together that informed him that Eirini was keeping him a secret. Why would that be, he wondered? Was she so ashamed that she couldn’t face her past? How much would she pay to keep that past hidden? Was it worth extorting her or perhaps he should see what being on good terms might yield? Visions of enhancements to his ship drifted through his thoughts. Fine scarlet sails with no tatters, new black paint on the hull. He could probably rip out the entire railing on both sides of the deck and commision new ones...The possibilities were endless. There was a list of at least a thousand tiny things that he’d like to have done to his ship. It would require a ton of money and months of the vessel being kept in a shipyard while the more extensive repairs or changes were going on. As it stood, the Aceton was old and comprised of several different ships. Its patchwork design was mostly hidden by paint and a lack of common knowledge of other seafaring vessels from other lands. Even Lukos wasn’t totally sure where all of it came from and it was built well before he was ever born. But he knew that ship better than he knew any person and trusted it more besides.
“I am a treasure,” he murmured in agreement. The only signal he gave that her twisting of the knife hurt was a minor narrowing of his eyes as he returned the favor. His own wrist curled deftly, digging into her just that littlest bit. He wanted to hear her cry out or give in. He studied the slope of her nose and the crease of her brows as she insinuated that he could have said something before. To that, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Her behavior had not endeared her to him and had sent off all the warning bells a person possibly could. That was why they were in this mess.
“If you’d let me go about my business and not interfered, we wouldn’t be playing now,” he said while she studied his face in return. In response to her musing about their current predicament, he said nothing. Nor did he give her his name, nor did he answer her question about his purpose. Instead, he smirked at her, pupils still blown, and edged his blade in enough to make it truly hurt. This was the part where it stopped being fun and turned steeply to real danger. There was only so far into her that he could go before the blade inflicted more than surface damage to her, no doubt, pristine body. Until now, the tip of the blade slipped under her flesh with the caress of a breath. Now the bite was coming and with it, fangs that would shred her if given the chance.
“You can’t detain me,” he reminded her. “Obviously your mistress trusts you as little as I should if she’s kept this from you.” He didn’t need a knife to slice her. Wetting his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, he considered her more carefully, a new idea forming. “How well do you serve your mistress? How am I to know you have her best interests at heart? If she doesn’t trust you, how can I with things you aren’t paid to know.”
If you’d let me go about my business and not interfered, we wouldn’t be playing now.
“If you hadn’t been skulking about like some common thief, I wouldn’t have interfered,” she retorted, unsatisfied by the slight narrowing of his eyes in reaction to her knife. Annoyed, she twisted harder while holding back just before the point of popping his lung. What sort of man did not even make a sound with bronze nipping into his flesh? However, if he truly was Lady Eirini’s brother, she knew she could not take this little back and forth much further, no matter how much she might wish to. If she simply dispatched of him, there would surely be consequences. And was he really worth sacrificing the trust and love of her mistress?
His knife twisted in response to her own, a brief grimace flashing over her face. Adept in the art of silence, he would not hear her cry out, even if he was now poised to cause real damage. What had begun as a game would quickly devolve into something far more serious if this wasn’t stopped soon. And while she had no issue with sacrificing her life for the sake of a threat, if this man was no true threat, she did not want to die. Similarly, she had no qualms with killing him, but she did with the toll such an action was sure to take.
“I wonder how valuable you are to her if she’s never even bothered to mention you,” Xanthippe mused aloud, ignoring his words on Eirini’s lack of trust in her and countering them instead. It simply wasn’t true, and he couldn’t be expected to understand. If he was held secret from her, there was surely a reason for it.
“But just as I can’t detain you, you can’t kill me,” her voice was cool as she informed him. “Well, I suppose you can, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Ask your sister herself—she raised me alongside her own daughters. She would certainly take issue with my death.”
Even as she wished to take that extra half an inch and shove her knife in further, she finally withdrew it, her fingertip gathering blood from the wound. Arm slipping from around him, she brought her bloodied hand to his face and ran the sanguine tip of her finger over his lips. “Now, I’d suggest you release me,” she murmured, clouded eyes set on his. “Before this goes wrong for us both.”
A smirk tilted her mouth for just a moment before her tongue darted out to catch a drop of blood that fell from his lips. Pupils dilated enough now to match his, she captured his mouth in a fierce kiss. Biting down hard on his lip, she used the distraction to grab his wrist and shove him off, in the same motion pulling his knife away from her ribs and giving her the opening she needed to wriggle out from underneath him. Leaping to her feet, she covered the wound with one hand and ignored the blood that welled between her fingers. Her free hand raised to her mouth, the ball of her thumb smearing his blood over her own lip.
Eyes sparkling, her smirk from moments ago deepened to a grin. “We can say we both won, eh? I don’t kill you, you don’t kill me, we both have marks to show for it… I’d say we’re even.”
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If you’d let me go about my business and not interfered, we wouldn’t be playing now.
“If you hadn’t been skulking about like some common thief, I wouldn’t have interfered,” she retorted, unsatisfied by the slight narrowing of his eyes in reaction to her knife. Annoyed, she twisted harder while holding back just before the point of popping his lung. What sort of man did not even make a sound with bronze nipping into his flesh? However, if he truly was Lady Eirini’s brother, she knew she could not take this little back and forth much further, no matter how much she might wish to. If she simply dispatched of him, there would surely be consequences. And was he really worth sacrificing the trust and love of her mistress?
His knife twisted in response to her own, a brief grimace flashing over her face. Adept in the art of silence, he would not hear her cry out, even if he was now poised to cause real damage. What had begun as a game would quickly devolve into something far more serious if this wasn’t stopped soon. And while she had no issue with sacrificing her life for the sake of a threat, if this man was no true threat, she did not want to die. Similarly, she had no qualms with killing him, but she did with the toll such an action was sure to take.
“I wonder how valuable you are to her if she’s never even bothered to mention you,” Xanthippe mused aloud, ignoring his words on Eirini’s lack of trust in her and countering them instead. It simply wasn’t true, and he couldn’t be expected to understand. If he was held secret from her, there was surely a reason for it.
“But just as I can’t detain you, you can’t kill me,” her voice was cool as she informed him. “Well, I suppose you can, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Ask your sister herself—she raised me alongside her own daughters. She would certainly take issue with my death.”
Even as she wished to take that extra half an inch and shove her knife in further, she finally withdrew it, her fingertip gathering blood from the wound. Arm slipping from around him, she brought her bloodied hand to his face and ran the sanguine tip of her finger over his lips. “Now, I’d suggest you release me,” she murmured, clouded eyes set on his. “Before this goes wrong for us both.”
A smirk tilted her mouth for just a moment before her tongue darted out to catch a drop of blood that fell from his lips. Pupils dilated enough now to match his, she captured his mouth in a fierce kiss. Biting down hard on his lip, she used the distraction to grab his wrist and shove him off, in the same motion pulling his knife away from her ribs and giving her the opening she needed to wriggle out from underneath him. Leaping to her feet, she covered the wound with one hand and ignored the blood that welled between her fingers. Her free hand raised to her mouth, the ball of her thumb smearing his blood over her own lip.
Eyes sparkling, her smirk from moments ago deepened to a grin. “We can say we both won, eh? I don’t kill you, you don’t kill me, we both have marks to show for it… I’d say we’re even.”
If you’d let me go about my business and not interfered, we wouldn’t be playing now.
“If you hadn’t been skulking about like some common thief, I wouldn’t have interfered,” she retorted, unsatisfied by the slight narrowing of his eyes in reaction to her knife. Annoyed, she twisted harder while holding back just before the point of popping his lung. What sort of man did not even make a sound with bronze nipping into his flesh? However, if he truly was Lady Eirini’s brother, she knew she could not take this little back and forth much further, no matter how much she might wish to. If she simply dispatched of him, there would surely be consequences. And was he really worth sacrificing the trust and love of her mistress?
His knife twisted in response to her own, a brief grimace flashing over her face. Adept in the art of silence, he would not hear her cry out, even if he was now poised to cause real damage. What had begun as a game would quickly devolve into something far more serious if this wasn’t stopped soon. And while she had no issue with sacrificing her life for the sake of a threat, if this man was no true threat, she did not want to die. Similarly, she had no qualms with killing him, but she did with the toll such an action was sure to take.
“I wonder how valuable you are to her if she’s never even bothered to mention you,” Xanthippe mused aloud, ignoring his words on Eirini’s lack of trust in her and countering them instead. It simply wasn’t true, and he couldn’t be expected to understand. If he was held secret from her, there was surely a reason for it.
“But just as I can’t detain you, you can’t kill me,” her voice was cool as she informed him. “Well, I suppose you can, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Ask your sister herself—she raised me alongside her own daughters. She would certainly take issue with my death.”
Even as she wished to take that extra half an inch and shove her knife in further, she finally withdrew it, her fingertip gathering blood from the wound. Arm slipping from around him, she brought her bloodied hand to his face and ran the sanguine tip of her finger over his lips. “Now, I’d suggest you release me,” she murmured, clouded eyes set on his. “Before this goes wrong for us both.”
A smirk tilted her mouth for just a moment before her tongue darted out to catch a drop of blood that fell from his lips. Pupils dilated enough now to match his, she captured his mouth in a fierce kiss. Biting down hard on his lip, she used the distraction to grab his wrist and shove him off, in the same motion pulling his knife away from her ribs and giving her the opening she needed to wriggle out from underneath him. Leaping to her feet, she covered the wound with one hand and ignored the blood that welled between her fingers. Her free hand raised to her mouth, the ball of her thumb smearing his blood over her own lip.
Eyes sparkling, her smirk from moments ago deepened to a grin. “We can say we both won, eh? I don’t kill you, you don’t kill me, we both have marks to show for it… I’d say we’re even.”
“I wonder how valuable you are to her if she’s never even bothered to mention you.”
Mmm...He thought fast.
“Usually the most valuable secrets aren’t discussed.” There. That ought to fix Miss Nosey. He winced a little as the knife in his side wriggled just the slightest bit while this mouse bragged about being raised alongside noble stock. His expression took on sardonic pity as a slow smile crept along his mouth. Was she implying what it sounded like she was saying? That she assumed that, somehow, Eirini valued her the same way she valued her own flesh and blood children? How sweet. This girl was gorgeous and delusional. She may yet have a purpose.
”She would certainly take issue with my death.”
Of course Eirini would take issue with this girl’s death. There’d be a mess on the floor and good help was so hard to come by. Not to mention it was just poor form to go around slicing open people’s servant girls. In the middle of that thought, he felt the instant relief of the knife leaving his body. Her finger drew a glistening swipe of his own blood across his mouth. He did not open his lips but they curved upward, mirroring the arch of one eyebrow, as she suggested that he return the favor of pulling back the knife. His hand didn’t move.
A single droplet of blood tickled down his lip and before he could process what was happening, her mouth crushed against his, burning pain radiated across his jaw in a confusing line, zipping down his chin and up his nose, before centering back to its proper place on his bottom lip. Xan’s hand grabbed his wrist and he did exactly zero to stop her because he was curling backwards at the same moment that she slithered out from beneath him. His hand flew to his mouth, gingerly touching his fingertips to it and pulling them away to check for more blood, which was definitely there. He could feel the swelling start in several places and he swung his eyes up to her in time to watch her lick his blood off her thumb.
“We can say we both won, eh? I don’t kill you, you don’t kill me, we both have marks to show for it… I’d say we’re even.”
Lukos stared at her, fingers drifting away from his mouth and he rose, ignoring his shirt sticking to his side, ignoring the burning in his muscle. He kept staring at her. “What’s your name,” he asked, not even ashamed at the breathless way he said it. Like she was some kind of goddess come to earth and blooming before him in all her majesty. Wholly forgotten was the reason he was here; his sister, snooping through her things. All he was now thinking about was getting this woman on her back. Or hands and knees. Or against the wall. Or onto his ship. Somewhere.
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“I wonder how valuable you are to her if she’s never even bothered to mention you.”
Mmm...He thought fast.
“Usually the most valuable secrets aren’t discussed.” There. That ought to fix Miss Nosey. He winced a little as the knife in his side wriggled just the slightest bit while this mouse bragged about being raised alongside noble stock. His expression took on sardonic pity as a slow smile crept along his mouth. Was she implying what it sounded like she was saying? That she assumed that, somehow, Eirini valued her the same way she valued her own flesh and blood children? How sweet. This girl was gorgeous and delusional. She may yet have a purpose.
”She would certainly take issue with my death.”
Of course Eirini would take issue with this girl’s death. There’d be a mess on the floor and good help was so hard to come by. Not to mention it was just poor form to go around slicing open people’s servant girls. In the middle of that thought, he felt the instant relief of the knife leaving his body. Her finger drew a glistening swipe of his own blood across his mouth. He did not open his lips but they curved upward, mirroring the arch of one eyebrow, as she suggested that he return the favor of pulling back the knife. His hand didn’t move.
A single droplet of blood tickled down his lip and before he could process what was happening, her mouth crushed against his, burning pain radiated across his jaw in a confusing line, zipping down his chin and up his nose, before centering back to its proper place on his bottom lip. Xan’s hand grabbed his wrist and he did exactly zero to stop her because he was curling backwards at the same moment that she slithered out from beneath him. His hand flew to his mouth, gingerly touching his fingertips to it and pulling them away to check for more blood, which was definitely there. He could feel the swelling start in several places and he swung his eyes up to her in time to watch her lick his blood off her thumb.
“We can say we both won, eh? I don’t kill you, you don’t kill me, we both have marks to show for it… I’d say we’re even.”
Lukos stared at her, fingers drifting away from his mouth and he rose, ignoring his shirt sticking to his side, ignoring the burning in his muscle. He kept staring at her. “What’s your name,” he asked, not even ashamed at the breathless way he said it. Like she was some kind of goddess come to earth and blooming before him in all her majesty. Wholly forgotten was the reason he was here; his sister, snooping through her things. All he was now thinking about was getting this woman on her back. Or hands and knees. Or against the wall. Or onto his ship. Somewhere.
“I wonder how valuable you are to her if she’s never even bothered to mention you.”
Mmm...He thought fast.
“Usually the most valuable secrets aren’t discussed.” There. That ought to fix Miss Nosey. He winced a little as the knife in his side wriggled just the slightest bit while this mouse bragged about being raised alongside noble stock. His expression took on sardonic pity as a slow smile crept along his mouth. Was she implying what it sounded like she was saying? That she assumed that, somehow, Eirini valued her the same way she valued her own flesh and blood children? How sweet. This girl was gorgeous and delusional. She may yet have a purpose.
”She would certainly take issue with my death.”
Of course Eirini would take issue with this girl’s death. There’d be a mess on the floor and good help was so hard to come by. Not to mention it was just poor form to go around slicing open people’s servant girls. In the middle of that thought, he felt the instant relief of the knife leaving his body. Her finger drew a glistening swipe of his own blood across his mouth. He did not open his lips but they curved upward, mirroring the arch of one eyebrow, as she suggested that he return the favor of pulling back the knife. His hand didn’t move.
A single droplet of blood tickled down his lip and before he could process what was happening, her mouth crushed against his, burning pain radiated across his jaw in a confusing line, zipping down his chin and up his nose, before centering back to its proper place on his bottom lip. Xan’s hand grabbed his wrist and he did exactly zero to stop her because he was curling backwards at the same moment that she slithered out from beneath him. His hand flew to his mouth, gingerly touching his fingertips to it and pulling them away to check for more blood, which was definitely there. He could feel the swelling start in several places and he swung his eyes up to her in time to watch her lick his blood off her thumb.
“We can say we both won, eh? I don’t kill you, you don’t kill me, we both have marks to show for it… I’d say we’re even.”
Lukos stared at her, fingers drifting away from his mouth and he rose, ignoring his shirt sticking to his side, ignoring the burning in his muscle. He kept staring at her. “What’s your name,” he asked, not even ashamed at the breathless way he said it. Like she was some kind of goddess come to earth and blooming before him in all her majesty. Wholly forgotten was the reason he was here; his sister, snooping through her things. All he was now thinking about was getting this woman on her back. Or hands and knees. Or against the wall. Or onto his ship. Somewhere.
This encounter got stranger by the moment, and it would take someone with even less presence of mind than Xanthippe had to misinterpret the look on the man’s face. The breathless tone of his voice, the dazed look in his eye, the slight part of his lips… her head tilted curiously to the side. Well, that was a complication she hadn’t expected and wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to. The kiss had been meant to stun him enough into loosening his grip, not to entrance him, and yet here he was…
What’s your name?
Lifting a brow, Xan exhaled a breath that was almost a laugh. “You wouldn’t tell me yours,” she pointed out in a husky murmur, stepping in closer. While she hadn’t quite expected this dazed reaction, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take advantage of it. Lord Fotios was the one who taught her to use every advantage she had, and if lust wasn’t an advantage, she didn’t know what was. Plush lips curling into a smirk, she moved in close enough to touch him, hip brushing his as she circled behind him. Fingertips brushing along his side, she leaned in close again to whisper in his ear, “Why should I tell you mine?”
Pressing against his back, her hand slid lightly across his hip, continuing in that same low-pitched tone, “Tit for tat, darling. No one gets something for nothing.” Breath rustling the small hairs on the back of his neck, her hand moved just far enough to feel what strained against the fabric of his chiton. Her fingers paused for a moment in a teasing brush before they withdrew, stepping back from him to circle around again to his front.
Rip it off.
Rip what off? His cock or his clothes?
Both.
The older I get, the stranger your suggestions become…
“You really are a hidden treasure, aren’t you?” she teased, blue eyes darkening as she pushed the gods’ whispers back out of her head. While she was of half of a mind to do either one, she wasn’t ready to lose the power she had over him quite yet. “Looking at me like that, I’d think you were ready to eat me whole.” She had a feeling she wasn’t that far off and laughed at the thought. Lashes lowering in a wink, she added, “Sweetheart, trust me. You couldn’t handle me.”
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This encounter got stranger by the moment, and it would take someone with even less presence of mind than Xanthippe had to misinterpret the look on the man’s face. The breathless tone of his voice, the dazed look in his eye, the slight part of his lips… her head tilted curiously to the side. Well, that was a complication she hadn’t expected and wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to. The kiss had been meant to stun him enough into loosening his grip, not to entrance him, and yet here he was…
What’s your name?
Lifting a brow, Xan exhaled a breath that was almost a laugh. “You wouldn’t tell me yours,” she pointed out in a husky murmur, stepping in closer. While she hadn’t quite expected this dazed reaction, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take advantage of it. Lord Fotios was the one who taught her to use every advantage she had, and if lust wasn’t an advantage, she didn’t know what was. Plush lips curling into a smirk, she moved in close enough to touch him, hip brushing his as she circled behind him. Fingertips brushing along his side, she leaned in close again to whisper in his ear, “Why should I tell you mine?”
Pressing against his back, her hand slid lightly across his hip, continuing in that same low-pitched tone, “Tit for tat, darling. No one gets something for nothing.” Breath rustling the small hairs on the back of his neck, her hand moved just far enough to feel what strained against the fabric of his chiton. Her fingers paused for a moment in a teasing brush before they withdrew, stepping back from him to circle around again to his front.
Rip it off.
Rip what off? His cock or his clothes?
Both.
The older I get, the stranger your suggestions become…
“You really are a hidden treasure, aren’t you?” she teased, blue eyes darkening as she pushed the gods’ whispers back out of her head. While she was of half of a mind to do either one, she wasn’t ready to lose the power she had over him quite yet. “Looking at me like that, I’d think you were ready to eat me whole.” She had a feeling she wasn’t that far off and laughed at the thought. Lashes lowering in a wink, she added, “Sweetheart, trust me. You couldn’t handle me.”
This encounter got stranger by the moment, and it would take someone with even less presence of mind than Xanthippe had to misinterpret the look on the man’s face. The breathless tone of his voice, the dazed look in his eye, the slight part of his lips… her head tilted curiously to the side. Well, that was a complication she hadn’t expected and wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to. The kiss had been meant to stun him enough into loosening his grip, not to entrance him, and yet here he was…
What’s your name?
Lifting a brow, Xan exhaled a breath that was almost a laugh. “You wouldn’t tell me yours,” she pointed out in a husky murmur, stepping in closer. While she hadn’t quite expected this dazed reaction, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take advantage of it. Lord Fotios was the one who taught her to use every advantage she had, and if lust wasn’t an advantage, she didn’t know what was. Plush lips curling into a smirk, she moved in close enough to touch him, hip brushing his as she circled behind him. Fingertips brushing along his side, she leaned in close again to whisper in his ear, “Why should I tell you mine?”
Pressing against his back, her hand slid lightly across his hip, continuing in that same low-pitched tone, “Tit for tat, darling. No one gets something for nothing.” Breath rustling the small hairs on the back of his neck, her hand moved just far enough to feel what strained against the fabric of his chiton. Her fingers paused for a moment in a teasing brush before they withdrew, stepping back from him to circle around again to his front.
Rip it off.
Rip what off? His cock or his clothes?
Both.
The older I get, the stranger your suggestions become…
“You really are a hidden treasure, aren’t you?” she teased, blue eyes darkening as she pushed the gods’ whispers back out of her head. While she was of half of a mind to do either one, she wasn’t ready to lose the power she had over him quite yet. “Looking at me like that, I’d think you were ready to eat me whole.” She had a feeling she wasn’t that far off and laughed at the thought. Lashes lowering in a wink, she added, “Sweetheart, trust me. You couldn’t handle me.”
All true concern for his bodily welfare evaporated the second she’d withdrawn her dagger and gave him that stinging kiss. He kept his hand against his lips, watching her tilt her head at him, considering him. Her eyes were the kind of colorless blue that tended to unnerve people with their pallor. She slunk toward him like a cat, pressing herself against him exactly like one. He followed her movements with his eyes right at first, but she roamed to the corner of his vision and he had to turn his head to keep her in view. Even there she crept out of sight and he didn’t want to play the next game of revolving on the spot and giving her that satisfaction. His eyes closed slowly as her fingertips brushed against his side. The heat of her chest pressed against his back and her lips hovered beside his ear, but he did not move, or quake, or shiver. He remained perfectly still, listening to her. “Why should I tell you mine?” Her name. Why should she tell him her name.
“Tit for tat, darling. No one gets something for nothing.” Her arm slithered against his side, down his abdomen, and across his hips. Lukos looked down, watching her progress but did nothing to stop her. His body tensed reflexively, simultaneously not trusting her and idiotically wanting that touch anyway. Every wisp of her breath washed across his neck and his eyes rose to the wall opposite them, ready to snap her hand if she made a bad decision.
But she didn’t. Her fingertips made a testing prod and then her arm slithered back, quicker this time like a sidewinder snake on a sand dune. Her body heat vanished at once and he exhaled, keeping his eyes on the wall as she circled back around. Finally he dropped his gaze back onto those luminous eyes of hers as she spoke. “You really are a hidden treasure, aren’t you?” He said nothing to that, still holding his lip but more out of lack of anything to do with that hand than because his lip hurt. “Looking at me like that, I’d think you were ready to eat me whole,” she went on and laughed.
The way her eyes lit and her laughter tumbled out like so many chaotic bubbles over jagged river rocks made him narrow his eyes. His mouth curved and he dropped his hand to his side. His chin lowered and he looked down at her from beneath dark brows, pupils less dilated than they had been and his fixation on her sharper, keener, like he really might bite her in return. He thought about it while she teased that he couldn’t handle her. The smile grew slowly, the whites of his teeth catching the light, making them too white, too stark, like sharp bones bared at her.
“Alright,” he took a step back from her, smile fading as his expression flattened from feral to assessing. The moment had slipped past them like moments do; there for the taking one moment and vanishing into inexplicable nothingness the next. Neither one of them had pounced on their attraction and the searing lust he’d had seconds ago cooled as his more logical thoughts finally took hold. It would be unthinkably stupid to jump her in this hall. Not that he was above doing it, but because Eirini wouldn’t like it.
“I’m here to see my sister,” he said, taking a sideways step as he examined her from a safer distance. She’d have to leap at him if she wanted to attack him now and by then he’d already be a step back from that. Unfortunately, not a lot of her was visible. Greek clothing tended to drape and hide curves but he liked what he could see. He circled around her this time, giving a testing swat to her ass and nodding to himself. “I’d like new clothes. Since my sister’s servant accosted me.” He smirked at her, coming back around to her front and stealing a breast squeeze for good measure before laughing and jumping out of hitting range. “It’s the least you can do.”
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All true concern for his bodily welfare evaporated the second she’d withdrawn her dagger and gave him that stinging kiss. He kept his hand against his lips, watching her tilt her head at him, considering him. Her eyes were the kind of colorless blue that tended to unnerve people with their pallor. She slunk toward him like a cat, pressing herself against him exactly like one. He followed her movements with his eyes right at first, but she roamed to the corner of his vision and he had to turn his head to keep her in view. Even there she crept out of sight and he didn’t want to play the next game of revolving on the spot and giving her that satisfaction. His eyes closed slowly as her fingertips brushed against his side. The heat of her chest pressed against his back and her lips hovered beside his ear, but he did not move, or quake, or shiver. He remained perfectly still, listening to her. “Why should I tell you mine?” Her name. Why should she tell him her name.
“Tit for tat, darling. No one gets something for nothing.” Her arm slithered against his side, down his abdomen, and across his hips. Lukos looked down, watching her progress but did nothing to stop her. His body tensed reflexively, simultaneously not trusting her and idiotically wanting that touch anyway. Every wisp of her breath washed across his neck and his eyes rose to the wall opposite them, ready to snap her hand if she made a bad decision.
But she didn’t. Her fingertips made a testing prod and then her arm slithered back, quicker this time like a sidewinder snake on a sand dune. Her body heat vanished at once and he exhaled, keeping his eyes on the wall as she circled back around. Finally he dropped his gaze back onto those luminous eyes of hers as she spoke. “You really are a hidden treasure, aren’t you?” He said nothing to that, still holding his lip but more out of lack of anything to do with that hand than because his lip hurt. “Looking at me like that, I’d think you were ready to eat me whole,” she went on and laughed.
The way her eyes lit and her laughter tumbled out like so many chaotic bubbles over jagged river rocks made him narrow his eyes. His mouth curved and he dropped his hand to his side. His chin lowered and he looked down at her from beneath dark brows, pupils less dilated than they had been and his fixation on her sharper, keener, like he really might bite her in return. He thought about it while she teased that he couldn’t handle her. The smile grew slowly, the whites of his teeth catching the light, making them too white, too stark, like sharp bones bared at her.
“Alright,” he took a step back from her, smile fading as his expression flattened from feral to assessing. The moment had slipped past them like moments do; there for the taking one moment and vanishing into inexplicable nothingness the next. Neither one of them had pounced on their attraction and the searing lust he’d had seconds ago cooled as his more logical thoughts finally took hold. It would be unthinkably stupid to jump her in this hall. Not that he was above doing it, but because Eirini wouldn’t like it.
“I’m here to see my sister,” he said, taking a sideways step as he examined her from a safer distance. She’d have to leap at him if she wanted to attack him now and by then he’d already be a step back from that. Unfortunately, not a lot of her was visible. Greek clothing tended to drape and hide curves but he liked what he could see. He circled around her this time, giving a testing swat to her ass and nodding to himself. “I’d like new clothes. Since my sister’s servant accosted me.” He smirked at her, coming back around to her front and stealing a breast squeeze for good measure before laughing and jumping out of hitting range. “It’s the least you can do.”
All true concern for his bodily welfare evaporated the second she’d withdrawn her dagger and gave him that stinging kiss. He kept his hand against his lips, watching her tilt her head at him, considering him. Her eyes were the kind of colorless blue that tended to unnerve people with their pallor. She slunk toward him like a cat, pressing herself against him exactly like one. He followed her movements with his eyes right at first, but she roamed to the corner of his vision and he had to turn his head to keep her in view. Even there she crept out of sight and he didn’t want to play the next game of revolving on the spot and giving her that satisfaction. His eyes closed slowly as her fingertips brushed against his side. The heat of her chest pressed against his back and her lips hovered beside his ear, but he did not move, or quake, or shiver. He remained perfectly still, listening to her. “Why should I tell you mine?” Her name. Why should she tell him her name.
“Tit for tat, darling. No one gets something for nothing.” Her arm slithered against his side, down his abdomen, and across his hips. Lukos looked down, watching her progress but did nothing to stop her. His body tensed reflexively, simultaneously not trusting her and idiotically wanting that touch anyway. Every wisp of her breath washed across his neck and his eyes rose to the wall opposite them, ready to snap her hand if she made a bad decision.
But she didn’t. Her fingertips made a testing prod and then her arm slithered back, quicker this time like a sidewinder snake on a sand dune. Her body heat vanished at once and he exhaled, keeping his eyes on the wall as she circled back around. Finally he dropped his gaze back onto those luminous eyes of hers as she spoke. “You really are a hidden treasure, aren’t you?” He said nothing to that, still holding his lip but more out of lack of anything to do with that hand than because his lip hurt. “Looking at me like that, I’d think you were ready to eat me whole,” she went on and laughed.
The way her eyes lit and her laughter tumbled out like so many chaotic bubbles over jagged river rocks made him narrow his eyes. His mouth curved and he dropped his hand to his side. His chin lowered and he looked down at her from beneath dark brows, pupils less dilated than they had been and his fixation on her sharper, keener, like he really might bite her in return. He thought about it while she teased that he couldn’t handle her. The smile grew slowly, the whites of his teeth catching the light, making them too white, too stark, like sharp bones bared at her.
“Alright,” he took a step back from her, smile fading as his expression flattened from feral to assessing. The moment had slipped past them like moments do; there for the taking one moment and vanishing into inexplicable nothingness the next. Neither one of them had pounced on their attraction and the searing lust he’d had seconds ago cooled as his more logical thoughts finally took hold. It would be unthinkably stupid to jump her in this hall. Not that he was above doing it, but because Eirini wouldn’t like it.
“I’m here to see my sister,” he said, taking a sideways step as he examined her from a safer distance. She’d have to leap at him if she wanted to attack him now and by then he’d already be a step back from that. Unfortunately, not a lot of her was visible. Greek clothing tended to drape and hide curves but he liked what he could see. He circled around her this time, giving a testing swat to her ass and nodding to himself. “I’d like new clothes. Since my sister’s servant accosted me.” He smirked at her, coming back around to her front and stealing a breast squeeze for good measure before laughing and jumping out of hitting range. “It’s the least you can do.”
His moods seemed to shift nearly as chaotically as hers did, the heated look in his eyes fading to one of cool calculation. Xanthippe bit her lip on a smile as he gave her one of his own; though ‘smile’ hardly seemed appropriate for the expression he turned on her. There was something thrilling about a man who didn’t immediately back down from her when she showed her truer self, but at the same time, she didn’t like it. The handmaid had enough self-awareness to know she was not normal (she was better, of course, but that was irrelevant at the moment), and that normal people did not act the way this man did. Did that make him dangerous? Not necessarily, but given the twisted game of chicken they had just played, she would lean more to the side of ‘yes’ in this case. And she didn’t like dangerous people around her family.
He began to circle her in nearly the same fashion she had done to him, though he kept a safer distance from her than she had bothered. Unlike him, however, she did turn to keep him in her sight, snarling silently when he groped at her. She made to snatch his wrist, but he darted away too fast before she could grab him. What right did he have to touch her? Who did he think he was?
Never mind that she had just done the same to him. That was different, of course. He was the intruder here, not her!
Should have ripped it off when we told you to.
There’s a lot of things I should do, isn’t there?
Maybe you should listen to us more often.
If I did, I would be dead.
Details.
Perhaps it ought to perturb her more that the divinities within her mind cared so little for her life, but she was used to their little quips and taunts by now. One did not grow up speaking to the gods without getting used to their callousness. Mortal lives were but a game to them, she knew. Even if they had chosen her, she was only a pawn. One day, she would show them her true worth, but it would not be by ripping off her lady’s brother’s man parts. At least not right now.
‘I’d like new clothes. Since my sister’s servant accosted me.’
The smile on Xanthippe’s lips was brittle and sarcastic, her voice dripping with a sweet venom as she retorted, “That sounds like a personal problem, now doesn’t it? Do you think I just have clothing laying around? Something tells me His Lordship wouldn’t exactly appreciate if I went and took one of his chitons.” Her smile turned a little more demure, feigning innocence as she batted her eyelashes at him. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to wear one of mine?”
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His moods seemed to shift nearly as chaotically as hers did, the heated look in his eyes fading to one of cool calculation. Xanthippe bit her lip on a smile as he gave her one of his own; though ‘smile’ hardly seemed appropriate for the expression he turned on her. There was something thrilling about a man who didn’t immediately back down from her when she showed her truer self, but at the same time, she didn’t like it. The handmaid had enough self-awareness to know she was not normal (she was better, of course, but that was irrelevant at the moment), and that normal people did not act the way this man did. Did that make him dangerous? Not necessarily, but given the twisted game of chicken they had just played, she would lean more to the side of ‘yes’ in this case. And she didn’t like dangerous people around her family.
He began to circle her in nearly the same fashion she had done to him, though he kept a safer distance from her than she had bothered. Unlike him, however, she did turn to keep him in her sight, snarling silently when he groped at her. She made to snatch his wrist, but he darted away too fast before she could grab him. What right did he have to touch her? Who did he think he was?
Never mind that she had just done the same to him. That was different, of course. He was the intruder here, not her!
Should have ripped it off when we told you to.
There’s a lot of things I should do, isn’t there?
Maybe you should listen to us more often.
If I did, I would be dead.
Details.
Perhaps it ought to perturb her more that the divinities within her mind cared so little for her life, but she was used to their little quips and taunts by now. One did not grow up speaking to the gods without getting used to their callousness. Mortal lives were but a game to them, she knew. Even if they had chosen her, she was only a pawn. One day, she would show them her true worth, but it would not be by ripping off her lady’s brother’s man parts. At least not right now.
‘I’d like new clothes. Since my sister’s servant accosted me.’
The smile on Xanthippe’s lips was brittle and sarcastic, her voice dripping with a sweet venom as she retorted, “That sounds like a personal problem, now doesn’t it? Do you think I just have clothing laying around? Something tells me His Lordship wouldn’t exactly appreciate if I went and took one of his chitons.” Her smile turned a little more demure, feigning innocence as she batted her eyelashes at him. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to wear one of mine?”
His moods seemed to shift nearly as chaotically as hers did, the heated look in his eyes fading to one of cool calculation. Xanthippe bit her lip on a smile as he gave her one of his own; though ‘smile’ hardly seemed appropriate for the expression he turned on her. There was something thrilling about a man who didn’t immediately back down from her when she showed her truer self, but at the same time, she didn’t like it. The handmaid had enough self-awareness to know she was not normal (she was better, of course, but that was irrelevant at the moment), and that normal people did not act the way this man did. Did that make him dangerous? Not necessarily, but given the twisted game of chicken they had just played, she would lean more to the side of ‘yes’ in this case. And she didn’t like dangerous people around her family.
He began to circle her in nearly the same fashion she had done to him, though he kept a safer distance from her than she had bothered. Unlike him, however, she did turn to keep him in her sight, snarling silently when he groped at her. She made to snatch his wrist, but he darted away too fast before she could grab him. What right did he have to touch her? Who did he think he was?
Never mind that she had just done the same to him. That was different, of course. He was the intruder here, not her!
Should have ripped it off when we told you to.
There’s a lot of things I should do, isn’t there?
Maybe you should listen to us more often.
If I did, I would be dead.
Details.
Perhaps it ought to perturb her more that the divinities within her mind cared so little for her life, but she was used to their little quips and taunts by now. One did not grow up speaking to the gods without getting used to their callousness. Mortal lives were but a game to them, she knew. Even if they had chosen her, she was only a pawn. One day, she would show them her true worth, but it would not be by ripping off her lady’s brother’s man parts. At least not right now.
‘I’d like new clothes. Since my sister’s servant accosted me.’
The smile on Xanthippe’s lips was brittle and sarcastic, her voice dripping with a sweet venom as she retorted, “That sounds like a personal problem, now doesn’t it? Do you think I just have clothing laying around? Something tells me His Lordship wouldn’t exactly appreciate if I went and took one of his chitons.” Her smile turned a little more demure, feigning innocence as she batted her eyelashes at him. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to wear one of mine?”
The genuine delighted smile he’d had a moment ago, the one that came out when he was the dominant one in an interaction, faded somewhat as he pressed his back against the far wall, cutting off at least one avenue from her to his person. She was wildly alluring to him but he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. His grin faded, though, as her own lips took on a decided unattractive tilt. The sweet way she spoke, coupled with what she was actually saying made him want to swat her upside her head.
“That sounds like a personal problem, now doesn’t it? Do you think I just have clothing laying around? Something tells me His Lordship wouldn’t exactly appreciate if I went and took one of his chitons.”
He worked his tongue along his back teeth as he glared at her. The audacity of this servant. It was such a turn on. “Yeah?” he nodded and folded his arms, wincing just a little at the sudden reminder that they’d played chicken with blades not five minutes ago. “I don’t give a flying fuck what his lordship would appreciate. That’s not my problem.” His tone mimicked the sicky sweet one she’d used on him and he gave her the ultra snide spin to it as a nice middle finger to the whole conversation.
It didn’t seem to phase her too much, though, as she batted her lashes at him. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to wear one of mine?”
He lifted his chin, looking down his nose at her. It was unlikely she’d really give him a chiton of any kind. However, he was willing to test it. “Alright,” he agreed, starting down the hallway again. “Which way? This way?” He struck out to the left, which, as it happened, really did lead towards the family’s bedrooms, though he had no way of knowing that. “Let’s see...first door I come to….” But he was expecting her to either shoot ahead of him if he was going the right direction or pull him back to go where she actually wanted. Either way, it’d get them away from this bloody hallway and so long as they changed clothes, who the fuck knew where it came from?
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The genuine delighted smile he’d had a moment ago, the one that came out when he was the dominant one in an interaction, faded somewhat as he pressed his back against the far wall, cutting off at least one avenue from her to his person. She was wildly alluring to him but he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. His grin faded, though, as her own lips took on a decided unattractive tilt. The sweet way she spoke, coupled with what she was actually saying made him want to swat her upside her head.
“That sounds like a personal problem, now doesn’t it? Do you think I just have clothing laying around? Something tells me His Lordship wouldn’t exactly appreciate if I went and took one of his chitons.”
He worked his tongue along his back teeth as he glared at her. The audacity of this servant. It was such a turn on. “Yeah?” he nodded and folded his arms, wincing just a little at the sudden reminder that they’d played chicken with blades not five minutes ago. “I don’t give a flying fuck what his lordship would appreciate. That’s not my problem.” His tone mimicked the sicky sweet one she’d used on him and he gave her the ultra snide spin to it as a nice middle finger to the whole conversation.
It didn’t seem to phase her too much, though, as she batted her lashes at him. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to wear one of mine?”
He lifted his chin, looking down his nose at her. It was unlikely she’d really give him a chiton of any kind. However, he was willing to test it. “Alright,” he agreed, starting down the hallway again. “Which way? This way?” He struck out to the left, which, as it happened, really did lead towards the family’s bedrooms, though he had no way of knowing that. “Let’s see...first door I come to….” But he was expecting her to either shoot ahead of him if he was going the right direction or pull him back to go where she actually wanted. Either way, it’d get them away from this bloody hallway and so long as they changed clothes, who the fuck knew where it came from?
The genuine delighted smile he’d had a moment ago, the one that came out when he was the dominant one in an interaction, faded somewhat as he pressed his back against the far wall, cutting off at least one avenue from her to his person. She was wildly alluring to him but he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. His grin faded, though, as her own lips took on a decided unattractive tilt. The sweet way she spoke, coupled with what she was actually saying made him want to swat her upside her head.
“That sounds like a personal problem, now doesn’t it? Do you think I just have clothing laying around? Something tells me His Lordship wouldn’t exactly appreciate if I went and took one of his chitons.”
He worked his tongue along his back teeth as he glared at her. The audacity of this servant. It was such a turn on. “Yeah?” he nodded and folded his arms, wincing just a little at the sudden reminder that they’d played chicken with blades not five minutes ago. “I don’t give a flying fuck what his lordship would appreciate. That’s not my problem.” His tone mimicked the sicky sweet one she’d used on him and he gave her the ultra snide spin to it as a nice middle finger to the whole conversation.
It didn’t seem to phase her too much, though, as she batted her lashes at him. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to wear one of mine?”
He lifted his chin, looking down his nose at her. It was unlikely she’d really give him a chiton of any kind. However, he was willing to test it. “Alright,” he agreed, starting down the hallway again. “Which way? This way?” He struck out to the left, which, as it happened, really did lead towards the family’s bedrooms, though he had no way of knowing that. “Let’s see...first door I come to….” But he was expecting her to either shoot ahead of him if he was going the right direction or pull him back to go where she actually wanted. Either way, it’d get them away from this bloody hallway and so long as they changed clothes, who the fuck knew where it came from?
This man confounded her at every turn, repeatedly playing into her games in the exact opposite way that she expected. Why was he like this? What was wrong with him? And why did she keep allowing it to happen? She should have put a stop to this already, but it was too… fun.
It wasn’t often that Xanthippe was able to toy with others the way she wanted to, having to put on the face of a demure handmaid so as to appear ‘normal.’ Lord Fotios had drilled into her the importance of that—others could not know who she was, what she was, or they would hurt her. Cast her out. Maybe even kill her. Well… they could try to kill her, anyway. With the gods protecting her and her own particular set of skills, she doubted they would get very far.
But here was a man who pushed back when she needled, who took her own games and turned them back on her. It was infuriating, but it was also fascinating, and the secret part of her, the hidden part, the one she must keep tucked away, wanted to see how far he would go. While she desperately needed the structured order of her world in order to keep herself under control, that buried part of her craved chaos. She wanted to set sparks to her corner of the world, to sit back and watch the spark ignite flame. To watch the world burn and the people run as their own structure crumbled down around them. Who would thrive in the chaos? Who would perish? These were the questions she dared to ask herself when she was alone, the fantasies that swirled around her head and kept her awake with her wonder.
If she prodded him enough, would he disrupt her order? In a way, he already was; the strange games they’d played this afternoon were hardly a normal part of her day. So, when he started off down the hall, affirming that he would indeed take one of her chitons, she blinked and watched him go. Bewildered, she trailed him for a few steps before rushing to cut him off, her hand firm at his chest.
“You don’t even know where you’re going,” she said, eyes narrowed in suspicion—he had chosen the right hall, and with the expansive nature of the Leventi manor, how had he known? What wasn’t he telling her? If he really was Eirini’s brother, why wouldn’t he even give her his name?
This whole situation left her in a conundrum. She couldn’t let him into her room; it was attached to Lady Melina’s chambers, and she didn’t want him that close to her. But neither could she just leave him out here while she went and fetched something herself; who knew what sort of trouble he might get into if she didn’t have her eye on him? Why wouldn’t he just… leave? Did he really need a change of clothes that badly?
Just slit his throat and toss him in the gardens.
Xanthippe was tired of arguing with the gods why she couldn’t simply just kill him, so she didn’t bother with an answer. Her eyes narrowed again as she looked at the chiton he wore. The dark fabric was indeed ruined, but would anyone even notice? Surely he could just… tie it different, and it would be fine. Was he just doing this now to toy with her in return?
Huffing out a sigh, she shook her head. “Now, now, you know I can’t let you back here. Think of the scandal,” she purred, as if she cared. Her whole existence was a scandal. “But I won’t leave you to your own devices, either, so where does that leave us, hm?” Lip curling into a smirk, cold blue eyes travelled down his bloodied garb, something like mischief sparkling in her gaze when it caught his again. “If you’re that worried about a messy chiton, you could just remove it. Run fast enough to wherever you’re going, and maybe no one will even notice.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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This man confounded her at every turn, repeatedly playing into her games in the exact opposite way that she expected. Why was he like this? What was wrong with him? And why did she keep allowing it to happen? She should have put a stop to this already, but it was too… fun.
It wasn’t often that Xanthippe was able to toy with others the way she wanted to, having to put on the face of a demure handmaid so as to appear ‘normal.’ Lord Fotios had drilled into her the importance of that—others could not know who she was, what she was, or they would hurt her. Cast her out. Maybe even kill her. Well… they could try to kill her, anyway. With the gods protecting her and her own particular set of skills, she doubted they would get very far.
But here was a man who pushed back when she needled, who took her own games and turned them back on her. It was infuriating, but it was also fascinating, and the secret part of her, the hidden part, the one she must keep tucked away, wanted to see how far he would go. While she desperately needed the structured order of her world in order to keep herself under control, that buried part of her craved chaos. She wanted to set sparks to her corner of the world, to sit back and watch the spark ignite flame. To watch the world burn and the people run as their own structure crumbled down around them. Who would thrive in the chaos? Who would perish? These were the questions she dared to ask herself when she was alone, the fantasies that swirled around her head and kept her awake with her wonder.
If she prodded him enough, would he disrupt her order? In a way, he already was; the strange games they’d played this afternoon were hardly a normal part of her day. So, when he started off down the hall, affirming that he would indeed take one of her chitons, she blinked and watched him go. Bewildered, she trailed him for a few steps before rushing to cut him off, her hand firm at his chest.
“You don’t even know where you’re going,” she said, eyes narrowed in suspicion—he had chosen the right hall, and with the expansive nature of the Leventi manor, how had he known? What wasn’t he telling her? If he really was Eirini’s brother, why wouldn’t he even give her his name?
This whole situation left her in a conundrum. She couldn’t let him into her room; it was attached to Lady Melina’s chambers, and she didn’t want him that close to her. But neither could she just leave him out here while she went and fetched something herself; who knew what sort of trouble he might get into if she didn’t have her eye on him? Why wouldn’t he just… leave? Did he really need a change of clothes that badly?
Just slit his throat and toss him in the gardens.
Xanthippe was tired of arguing with the gods why she couldn’t simply just kill him, so she didn’t bother with an answer. Her eyes narrowed again as she looked at the chiton he wore. The dark fabric was indeed ruined, but would anyone even notice? Surely he could just… tie it different, and it would be fine. Was he just doing this now to toy with her in return?
Huffing out a sigh, she shook her head. “Now, now, you know I can’t let you back here. Think of the scandal,” she purred, as if she cared. Her whole existence was a scandal. “But I won’t leave you to your own devices, either, so where does that leave us, hm?” Lip curling into a smirk, cold blue eyes travelled down his bloodied garb, something like mischief sparkling in her gaze when it caught his again. “If you’re that worried about a messy chiton, you could just remove it. Run fast enough to wherever you’re going, and maybe no one will even notice.”
This man confounded her at every turn, repeatedly playing into her games in the exact opposite way that she expected. Why was he like this? What was wrong with him? And why did she keep allowing it to happen? She should have put a stop to this already, but it was too… fun.
It wasn’t often that Xanthippe was able to toy with others the way she wanted to, having to put on the face of a demure handmaid so as to appear ‘normal.’ Lord Fotios had drilled into her the importance of that—others could not know who she was, what she was, or they would hurt her. Cast her out. Maybe even kill her. Well… they could try to kill her, anyway. With the gods protecting her and her own particular set of skills, she doubted they would get very far.
But here was a man who pushed back when she needled, who took her own games and turned them back on her. It was infuriating, but it was also fascinating, and the secret part of her, the hidden part, the one she must keep tucked away, wanted to see how far he would go. While she desperately needed the structured order of her world in order to keep herself under control, that buried part of her craved chaos. She wanted to set sparks to her corner of the world, to sit back and watch the spark ignite flame. To watch the world burn and the people run as their own structure crumbled down around them. Who would thrive in the chaos? Who would perish? These were the questions she dared to ask herself when she was alone, the fantasies that swirled around her head and kept her awake with her wonder.
If she prodded him enough, would he disrupt her order? In a way, he already was; the strange games they’d played this afternoon were hardly a normal part of her day. So, when he started off down the hall, affirming that he would indeed take one of her chitons, she blinked and watched him go. Bewildered, she trailed him for a few steps before rushing to cut him off, her hand firm at his chest.
“You don’t even know where you’re going,” she said, eyes narrowed in suspicion—he had chosen the right hall, and with the expansive nature of the Leventi manor, how had he known? What wasn’t he telling her? If he really was Eirini’s brother, why wouldn’t he even give her his name?
This whole situation left her in a conundrum. She couldn’t let him into her room; it was attached to Lady Melina’s chambers, and she didn’t want him that close to her. But neither could she just leave him out here while she went and fetched something herself; who knew what sort of trouble he might get into if she didn’t have her eye on him? Why wouldn’t he just… leave? Did he really need a change of clothes that badly?
Just slit his throat and toss him in the gardens.
Xanthippe was tired of arguing with the gods why she couldn’t simply just kill him, so she didn’t bother with an answer. Her eyes narrowed again as she looked at the chiton he wore. The dark fabric was indeed ruined, but would anyone even notice? Surely he could just… tie it different, and it would be fine. Was he just doing this now to toy with her in return?
Huffing out a sigh, she shook her head. “Now, now, you know I can’t let you back here. Think of the scandal,” she purred, as if she cared. Her whole existence was a scandal. “But I won’t leave you to your own devices, either, so where does that leave us, hm?” Lip curling into a smirk, cold blue eyes travelled down his bloodied garb, something like mischief sparkling in her gaze when it caught his again. “If you’re that worried about a messy chiton, you could just remove it. Run fast enough to wherever you’re going, and maybe no one will even notice.”
